


Aftermath

by Maka (JanaTearce)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt and litte Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaTearce/pseuds/Maka
Summary: A thought experiment. What if Malik died instead of Kadar?





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Could I have given this more thought? Probably. Am I too impatient to have this lie around for an undefined amount of time? Definitely.  
> Have it.  
> Have the sad Kadar.

Given Abbas' reaction one would think Altaïr had learnt, but maybe he just thought he deserved it. He certainly felt like he deserved it.

There had been no accusations from Kadar. No flaming wrath, consuming all in it's path, like it could have been expected from Malik who was a force to be reckoned with when angry. Kadar on the other hand; it had taken Altaïr almost too long to understand that he wouldn't burst out in rage at any random moment. That where Malik would have been ablaze with anger, there was no room in his brother for it. That either the hollow in his chest took up too much space or he exhausted himself over crying so much that he lacked the energy to even try being angry.

Altaïr closed his eyes, felt something heavy settle in his gut.

It was a nice house, the furniture sparse, useful, but it looked more like a home than Altaïr's ever had. His hand clasped the wooden door frame and Altaïr had to force himself to let go. Kadar had buried himself in Malik's bed – he knew without asking, he knew because he had done the same after his father's death. Only that scent never lingered and became a memory way too quick. Altaïr remembered that too.

He also remembered Abbas' and part of him was suddenly twelve all over again. The scar on his mouth gave a soft twinge of pain, though maybe that was only his imagination because it hadn't hurt in years.

Nothing moved when Altaïr crouched next to the bed, observing the bundle of blanket and Kadar that seemed to have fused into a single being. A single shaky breath indicated his own presence, though he had tried not to sneak up on Kadar.

Sorry wouldn't cut it. Sorry would never be enough. And yet he had to say it, at least once. – Just not right now, no matter how overdue it might be. Altaïr breathed in, closing his eyes he breathed out and braced himself. What else was there to say, he had thought long and hard about all of this but now that he was here all words eluded him whereas else they never failed him. 

The sheets rustled, there was the slow, sluggish movement of someone who lacked all energy to do so. And then there was a pair of dull blue eyes staring at him. Kadar blinked, then closed his eyes.

“You need to eat.” _I'm sorry_. “C'mon get up.” _I'm so sorry_.

There was no answer, but Altaïr hadn't expected one. Uncertain what to do with himself or Kadar he stood and pondered over the question. There wasn't really any use in making Kadar get up, he likely wasn't even strong enough to stand. There was no real point in bringing him to the kitchen either. Altaïr didn't even know what to do with himself in there, so Kadar's presence certainly wouldn't help, but he had to get him something to eat.

“I'll be right back.” _I'm sorry_.

Light-footed Altaïr shuffled away, wandering through the small house. He was familiar with the layout. Despite their differences throughout the years Malik and him had maintained some sort of friendship.

For a moment Altaïr considered actually trying to cook something, it would probably bring Malik back from the dead even if only momentarily to yell at him for burning the house down. Better not, Altaïr thought and grabbed an apple. A real one. Nothing like the treasure the Master had sought. Weighing the fruit in his hand Altaïr stared at it lost in thought. He remembered his shameful return all too well. He also remembered Kadar's tear streaked face all too well. He'd held the Ark so tight his bloodied knuckles had shown white, only able nod or shake his head Altaïr had thought till he'd heard him speaking. Till his voice had trembled as much as the walls of temple which had crashed down so quickly to separate them.

Without a word Altaïr returned to Kadar and found some room on the edge of his bed to occupy, while he cut the apple and listened to the faint rustle of his sheets when Kadar sat up. He ate the pieces Altaïr fed him in tiny bites like a mouse, nothing like Altaïr was used to from him. Two months prior Kadar would have wolfed down the apple in its entirety and asked for seconds or would have tried stealing from him or Malik. Now he barely made it through the one he shared with Altaïr.

There was a good chance Malik would rise from the dead just to kick his ass if he didn't look after Kadar.

“It's going to get better,” he said quietly. There was no answer from Kadar except the quiet chewing and the apple cracking under his bites. “You won't feel like it right from the start, but it's going to be bearable one day. When my father died I felt alone like never before...” Something glinted in Kadar's eyes, but Altaïr couldn't pinpoint it. Then there was a sudden flash of distrust.

Kadar's voice was hoarse from not speaking for days at a time. “Does it always hurt?” This much, Altaïr blinked, somehow certain that was how Kadar would have liked to end his sentence, but had chosen otherwise for some reason.

“No...” Altaïr said carefully. “It dulls.”

“Just… that?”

“You won't think about it as much anymore.” Altaïr spoke with a little more confidence, but Kadar was in obvious, but quiet disbelief.

The tears came but Kadar didn't even seem to be aware of it anymore. That or he had simply grown used to it. “I can still feel the blood under my hand”, his voice was quiet but high-pitched from upcoming panic. His lips were quivering. “It's not stopping, it's not stopping...” Attempting to tear at his hair and bury his face Kadar seemed to realise that meant he had to stop eating and maybe an old instinct kicked in, because he stopped what he was doing and continued eating.

Altaïr handed him another slice. “Some nights I still see Abbas' father cutting his throat,” he admitted quietly and in all sincerity he could muster. It was nothing he liked to talk about but Kadar deserved the truth and when he looked at Kadar's face he could see that he had been wondering just like everyone else. A sudden bout of anger flashed through him, made him bare his teeth and bark at Kadar, though he still kept his voice low. “What did you think, I was ten, of course I didn't make it up.” There was genuine hurt in his voice.

The only answer he got was a shrug. In the following moments Kadar was obviously more occupied with eating and Altaïr had to bite back a small smile. If he still was enough of himself to prioritise food over everything, maybe things weren't so bad.

 _I'm sorry_.

**

Kadar woke up to the smell of meat roasting on a fire. Hazy from hunger and sleep he found his way out of bed, staggered a little on the first steps, realising only then how thirsty he was. Malik had to be in the kitchen, he thought, slowly trudging forward. The error in his thoughts not yet obvious to him.

Since when were Malik's robes so white? A head turned. “Oh, you're awake already...”, the mouth said and Kadar squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again what he saw made a little more sense and he couldn't help the disappointment showing on his face when he looked at Altaїr.

“I thought–“

“I know...” Came the quiet reply. It was honest, at least the understanding in it was, Kadar thought. “Come sit, it's almost done.” There was something hidden beneath his words that Kadar couldn't make out, but he heard the undertone of it.

Still a little hazy Kadar sat at the table, watching Altaїr, an overlay of a vague memory played in his head. Of Malik doing the same, of Altaїr, of their arguing, of Altaїr's seeming incapability to cook. The voices faintly echoed in his ears.

It was only when Altaїr came over to him with their dinner – Kadar assumed it would be dark again soon – that he realised the stains on his clothes. Blood and dirt crusted all over the once shining white. “Where were you?”, he asked, not quite here yet and grabbed for a piece of meat.

His eager appetite formed a lingering smile on Altaїr's lips. “Damascus, but that's none of your concern right now”, he slid the plate towards Kadar who grabbed another piece, slowly chewing under Altaїr's almost unflinching gaze.

“You came straight here,” Kadar observed, uncertain what to make of it. The days while Altaїr had been away had melted into each other giving him more time to think about what had happened at the Temple of Solomon than he cared for. Every now and then someone had come by and left food. Sometimes freshly cooked even, the smell had always woken him but his benefactor had never stayed for a thank you. He wondered if that was Altaїr's doing as well.

He took another bite, poking idle at the meat on the plate. “Malik used to cook”, he said quietly as if that explained anything. Eating had become hard. He wasn't used to preparing a meal all on his own. If Malik hadn't supplied his food it had been the brotherhood. Kadar hadn't meant for it to become a chore, it had just happened.

Altaїr took the piece he was toying with and shoved it in his mouth, but Kadar just watched, his eyes telling of some place far away from his body.

“Why are you doing this?” _For me_ , he wanted to say, but talking as it is, was already exhausting enough.

“You need to eat”, was all Altaїr replied after a long while of silence, and Kadar only nodded. Again he could hear something prodding underneath his words, and again he couldn't tell what it was. Just that it was there. Lurking.

**

“Why did you lie?” Kadar asked quietly into the darkness of the fortress. Lately he had taken up the habit of roaming the castle of Masyaf, exploring every nook and cranny, every hiding place Malik had shown him back when they were kids. “Why did you say it wasn't suicide, when that's the truth?” 

Kadar was standing in front of their Master's desk, his eyes unmistakably fixed on the treasure he had retrieved.

Faintly Altaїr's fingers brushed the scar on his lip. It didn't hurt. Not anymore, but the events were still clear as day. Abbas' blazing eyes, his insistence on real, sharp, actual swords and then the metal coming down for him again and again and again... “I thought he was going to kill me,” Altaїr admitted, no less quiet than Kadar and walked up next to him with his hands behind his back. “Taking my words back...” he sighed audibly. “I thought he'd feel better knowing, I thought else it would eat him alive and I knew it would get better with time...”

“It only dulls,” was all Kadar said in response. His palms spread across the treasure, almost touching it. For a split second he thought of whirling it so hard at Altaїr it would crack his skull.

**

He had looked up to him, up until the point when he hadn't, when Altaїr had made the world he knew shatter. It hadn't happened instantly when the temple had come crashing down, separating Altaїr from him and Malik. It had been a slow progress from the moment he'd been trying to stop the blood from gushing out to no avail, and then the clashing of swords, and Robert big and strong as a bull, but never quite fast enough to catch him, the Ark of Solomon smeared with blood – Malik's blood – when he touched it, the journey back a haze and finally Altaїr in front of their Master with his head bowed in defeat and shame. That's when Kadar had felt something crack.

It wasn't his defeat, the realisation that the man he had idolised was fallible. Not quite, and Kadar had been surprised himself how easily he had accepted this realisation.

Kadar had never given the carefulness of his brother much more thought than that it had to stem from the fact that he didn't want to see his brother get hurt, but if Altaїr had listened to him. _Just this once–_

Altaїr met the unblinking stare with which Kadar had studied him from the fence. Rauf had asked his former student to show them a little of his combat skills and Altaїr had complied, though his eyes told that he took little joy in the task.

“I'm up next”, with these words Kadar hopped the fence. He barely took notice of the former, now defeated opponent, instead reached for the sword on his belt. He only noticed how quiet the ring had gotten by how the silence seemed to be ringing in his ears.

Sword drawn he took a step forward, taking a slow breath. He wasn't quite strong enough, not yet, but that was okay. Kadar's eyes still fixed Altaїr in an unblinking stare, as he rested himself into an attack stance. Strength had always been Malik's forte, Kadar thought, tightening the grip on his sword. If he wasn't strong enough that was more than okay, he just needed to be fast enough to break his defence and strike one clean hit. Altaїr wouldn't even realised what he had coming for himself.

He wasn't going to kill him, Kadar told himself, uncertain where that thought had come from so suddenly.

**

People remarked on how he had changed.

**

If his way had made Altaїr a master assassin at his age, it couldn't be entirely wrong, but maybe it had to refined with Malik's carefulness.

**

He couldn't sleep that night. Not because of the nightmares which had haunted him for way too long, in fact there had been no reason at all. Kadar just couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Later he would consider that maybe he had been anticipating it.

The words prodding underneath the ones Altaїr spoke had slowly become more and more prominent, till Kadar was almost certain he knew. So that by the time they actually left Altaїr's mouth they didn't come as a surprise.

“I'm sorry.”

 _I know_ , Kadar wanted to say, but there was no answer. His eyes fixed in the ever same blank, unflinching, unblinking stare on Altaїr. The one Malik had told him to cut back on because apparently it looked creepy, though lately Kadar liked when people flinched when he stared at them.

Altaїr didn't flinch, though he grew visibly uncomfortable. “I was overambitious, I shouldn't have– “

“But you did”, Kadar replied, his voice cold. “And he's dead, and you can't change that, nothing can. Your stupid, arrogant ass killed Malik.” _And my trust_ , but for Kadar that went without saying. He wouldn't trust Altaїr any further than he could throw him.

**

“I want to hurt you for what you've done, how you made me feel. – I don't think I'm going to do anything about it though, not right now anyway.” The words had come out of the blue. Altaїr had stopped what he had been doing and stared at him, while Kadar hadn't stopped picking the throwing knives out of the training dummy. When he had turned to look at him Altaїr had seemed awkward and uncomfortable, which only provided a small, but secure comfort for Kadar.

**

It had washed over him, engulfed him so sudden he hadn't been able to fight it first chance. Then, for a moment his mind struggled at the unwelcome intrusion, and then there was Malik and Kadar forgot what he was even doing. Something clutched the inside of his throat, making him hiccup a strangled sob, followed by blissful nothingness. Making him forget that he was dead, that he wasn't supposed to be here.

All that he knew for sure was that if he didn't follow their Master's orders was that Malik would go. Kadar wasn't so sure why that was. It just was. And he wasn't going to question it. Not now not ever. – Malik had told him so.

He remembered fighting. He remembered Malik at his side, just like it used to be. Just like it was supposed to be.

When it was ripped from him, it all happened too fast to process. Kadar blinked, his breath shaking. There was still Malik's voice ringing in his ears, saying something that he couldn't understand, but when he turned his head he was gone. And when he turned his head again, like everyone else, Altaїr's name reached his ears.

Kadar staggered, sword in hand till it slipped his grip somewhere along the way. Again Altaїr had taken Malik from him. That was the only thought his mind stopped to process. His eyes were stinging, but Kadar kept staggering forward till he found Altaїr at the fire. He didn't understand why their Master's body was burning, or why he was dead, he didn't understand anything at all. Part of him wanted to cry, but the part that kept staring dumbfound at Altaїr won for the moment.

Whatever had happened to his head, whatever had brought back Malik – it was over, that much Kadar understood. And with that he shoved Altaїr away from the burning body. “It's your fault. All of it, it's your fault and now he's gone. – Malik's gone and I...” Kadar shoved him again. “What the fuck did you just do, I finally had him back!”

For a moment he could only read baffled confusion on Altaїr's face. “It was an illusion.” Altaїr tried grab for his hands, but Kadar evaded him, hitting his chest.

“I don't care, it's not fair, I want my brother back”, and Kadar stopped to swallow and blink away the tears which had gathered to blur his vision. This time Altaїr caught his hands, but trying to break free was in vain. “You hear me, give him back...” Not to cry took all of his leftover resources, which was why Altaїr succeeded in subduing his struggle and Kadar gave in at last. “It's not fair...”

“It wasn't real. Whatever you saw was what he wanted you to see”, Altaїr nodded towards the burning body, but to Kadar that made no sense.

“Let me go...”

“I'm sorry.”

Kadar didn't answer, he only buried his nails in his palms.

**

Malik's absence had grown to become a dull hollow in his chest, something akin to the shadow lurking over his shoulder that reminded him now and then that this life would one day kill him and likely long before his time.

He had watched him, listened and watched more till the change in Altaїr had outweighed his distrust and Kadar had been able to let himself relax around him. It had taken him a while to realise that none of the others bothered him on Altaїr's orders. At first that had angered him, but with time Kadar had come to appreciate that he could roam the castle without anyone hounding him about training or really, anything. He tried to more or less stick to eating when everyone else did, but he found himself more than often sitting in the kitchen, talking to the cook while none of the others were around.

Whatever had led him into Altaїr's study he couldn't say. The image of Altaїr sitting behind a desk was still something he had to get used to, just like the image of himself in this room was apparently something Altaїr had to get used to. When Altaїr looked up he seemingly still followed the thoughts of whichever scroll he had just been reading. “I didn't hear you.”

“Shame on you, you weren't paying attention.” Kadar shrugged for no proper reason, uncertain if his steps had been audible because he hadn't been paying attention either. A moment long he stood in Altaїr's study, not knowing what to do with himself. Spotting a pile of pillows he cowered down, hugging his knees.

Altaїr's voice seemed to come from far away. “I know there's nothing in my power that can make this right, and I know I cannot expect you to forgive me.”

Quietly Kadar studied the books across from him. Adamant to pretend he wasn't listening.

“For as long as I can remember”, Altaїr stood up, but Kadar forced himself to keep staring ahead, “Malik was always fussing over you. I don't know, I never really understood why – other than when he tried to stop you from accidentally getting yourself killed.”

Kadar noticed how Altaїr had walked over and sat down next to him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I think... I understand him a little better now, and I'm worried about you.”

Kadar opened his palm to show the marks his nails had left, when he didn't know what to reply.

**Author's Note:**

> I am actually curious about your thoughts about the differences this would make, so don't be shy and leave them in the comment section :)


End file.
